Shadows and Secrets

The meeting disperses, but the weight of the conversation lingers.

Elias and I step outside, the crisp morning air doing little to shake the unease settling in my bones.

The Imps are changing.

The ruins are stirring.

And somewhere in the middle of it all—Black Spirits.

I steal a glance at Elias.

He is calm, his expression thoughtful, but I know him well enough now to recognise the subtle shift in his demeanour.

Something about this is getting to him.

And I think I know why.

——

We find Edan near the supply tents, speaking to one of the quartermasters.

Up close, he looks even more out of place—his light armour more suited for travel than battle, his expression a mixture of calculating intelligence and quiet exhaustion.

He notices us immediately.

"Ah," he muses. "You're still here."

Elias grins. "We tend to linger."

Edan folds his arms. "I assume you want something."

I nod. "We want in."

Edan raises an eyebrow. "In?"

"On the investigation," I clarify. "If this ruin is affecting the Imps, then we want to know why. We want to help."

Edan studies us carefully.

"You do understand that this is more than just a mercenary job, yes?"

Elias nods, his voice casual. "We do. That's why we're asking."

Edan tilts his head. "And what makes you so interested in ancient history?"

Elias shrugs, his expression unreadable. "Curiosity."

Edan doesn't buy it.

But he does not press.

Instead, he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Fine. I was going to request a guard unit anyway. If you want to take the contract, I won't object."

I exhale in relief.

Elias grins. "See? That was easy."

Edan gives him a flat look. "If you think anything about this is going to be easy, you are deeply mistaken."

Elias winks. "Oh, I'm counting on it."

——

After finalizing the contract with Captain Cliff, Edan takes us aside to discuss what he knows.

We find a quieter space near the edge of camp, away from listening ears.

And finally, Edan speaks.

"You should understand something before we begin," he says. "The Black Spirits are not just corrupting forces. They are something… older. Something that predates most recorded history."

Elias and I exchange a glance.

Edan continues.

"The ruins I'm studying date back to the time of the Ancients—a civilization long gone, but one that may have been the first to interact with Black Spirits. The inscriptions I found suggest that these entities were not always what they are now."

Elias tilts his head. "Meaning?"

Edan exhales. "Meaning that the Black Spirits may have been something else before they became creatures of corruption."

A chill settles in my spine.

Elias, beside me, does not react.

Too calm.

Too still.

Edan notices.

"You seem awfully composed about all this," he muses, watching Elias carefully.

Elias smirks. "I like history."

Edan does not look convinced.

But once again—he does not press.

——

The conversation continues, shifting toward the ruins and what Edan intends to do.

"The problem," he explains, "is that these ruins are awakening. That means something is either triggering them or they are reacting to a force we don't yet understand."

I nod slowly. "And you think the Imps are drawn to this?"

Edan frowns. "I think they are being influenced. I've seen similar patterns before. Creatures that are normally territorial and aggressive suddenly behaving with purpose, as if something is pulling them in."

Elias crosses his arms. "You think something is calling them?"

Edan's expression is grim.

"I think something is waiting for them."

Silence.

The implications are unsettling.

If something is guiding the Imps…

Then it is not just a simple army gathering.

It is a summoning.

——

Elias exhales, breaking the tension with a casual grin. "Well. Sounds like fun."

Edan scoffs. "You have a strange definition of fun."

Elias winks. "You have no idea."

I roll my eyes, but my mind is still turning.

This is bigger than just a mercenary job.

Bigger than just Velia.

And if Black Spirits are truly tied to all of this…

Then Elias and I are about to walk straight into something neither of us are ready for.

But ready or not—

We are going.